Yule: The First Full Moon after the Winter Solstice

The first full moon after the Winter Solstice holds deep meaning with its rich traditions rooted in the ancient Germanic tribes and their Norse cousins, born in the faraway lands of Northern Europe. The celebration of Yule honors the return of light and the strength of the ancestors.

Diluted perhaps, blood still calls to blood even in the faraway lands of the West. Some of us heed it and though we share the brilliance of the Wolf Moon with the indigenous folk, we are sacred stewards, all of us. We have in common a love and respect for the land itself along with the spirits who watch over it.

Ingredients of an earthy and sweet simmer pot wafting up to delight the senses, that.

The wild hunt beneath the light of a full Wolf Moon.

The Immigrant Roots of Yule

Yule is Jól in Old Norse and was a midwinter festival celebrated by Germanic tribes long before Christianity spread across Europe. It marked the rebirth of the sun after the longest night of the year and a time when communities gathered to honor their ancestors and the natural cycles that sustained them. They were a people who lived by nature's seasons and named spirts and gods to symbolize and give meaning to nature's wrath and reason. They are stories of hope, perseverance and lessons in survival.

The festival was a feast of warmth and light, featuring roasted meats such as salted pork and hearty breads. Perhaps, wholesome vegetables like kale in broth with root vegetables with a bit of cream. There was surely no shortage of mead and ale. And of course, there was the storytelling with the ceremonial burning of the Yule log to symbolize the return of the sun as friends, family and neighbors gathered around in warmth and fellowship to hear the triumphs of the gods in their wisdom, humor and the feats of Odin and Thor who were thought to protect the people through winter’s hardships.

These traditions were deeply tied to the rhythms of nature and the belief that the spirits of the land and the dead walked close during this sacred time. It is during this season that they believed the veil between worlds was the thinnest whereas the Celts believed it was Samhain. One of many similar threads between cultures that doesn't stop here.

Skadi's Saga

A hundred tiny whips crack as the Yule log burns. In a dimly lit longhouse enters a bent shape, weary bones shuffling and stiff from the frigid winter wind and cold. Warm mead and a bowl are offered with an honored seat at the Jarl's table. Benches line the hall, overflowing with kin and community in companionship steeped in laughter and heartfelt camaraderie as memories old and new are shared and created.

The diminished figure finishes sopping up the last bit of salted pork, root vegetables, kale and creamy broth with still warm bread and pushes back the hood of her billowing pale blue cloak, a twin hue to bright small eyes framed by creased skin which was once browned from a high summer sun. Her fingers are long and elegantly skeletal as she takes a deep breath ending with a satisfied sigh. A stranger to this hall, many have been the eyes upon her since her footfalls first crossed the threshold and the old custom of hospitality offered.

The Jarl stands and a hush begins to fall over those gathered.

"Would you share with us a story on this sacred night of Yule?"

An offer to save face and a bargain made: Food and warm welcome for entertainment.

The woman gave a nod and with the help of her walking stick rose to stand from the bench and made her way to the head of the long rectangular fire that ran nearly the full length of space. With a whispered groan, she sat in the high-backed chair and settled her stick beside her. Clearing her throat, wrinkled fingers at its base, she locked eyes with the serving woman who handed her a horn of honeyed mead.

A long draught to coat her throat and the twinkle flashing in her almost gray eyes sparked as she knew it was also a tactic used by many a great storyteller to build anticipation in the audience.

Finally, she began.

"This is the Saga of Skadi, goddess of winter, skiing, and bowhunting. May you render her offering that she might bless and protect you during this season where Odin and Thor can ... or will not," she boldly stated with a significant pause.

She looked slowly over the people of the small settlement who had gathered, reading the room before continuing.

"The jötunn, Skadi, seeking revenge against the Aesir for the death of her father, journeyed to Asgard where she sought her retribution through diplomacy with the gods. An intimidating figure in her full battle gear, they sought to appease the giantess and make a bargain with her. Better to pull her into their ranks and keep her close than have her causing havoc as an enemy against them. As part of her compensation for this wrong against her family in the killing of her father, Thjazi, she is offered the husband of her choice."

A few of the older folk in the hall nodded knowingly. Many did not and for a moment the woman's eyes blazed hot fire at the lack of recognition.

Legend was fading. The tale of Skadi was disappearing.

"The clever Aesir, known well for their trickery of the jötunn in such dealings were true to their clever deception and had but one condition for Skadi. She would have to choose her husband by only his feet. With a desire for Balder, the most handsome of the gods, she picked the fairest feet. Of course, they are attached to the summer sea-god, Njord. Trying to compromise, they each spent nine nights at one another's homes, but to no good outcome. Where Skadi preferred the cold mountains and winter, Njord would have the summer and the sea, light winds blowing like a whisper across flesh."

The crone paused for drink of mead and rested her free hand on the top of her walking stick and leaned forward.

"Not all was lost."

With a deep inhalation through her nostrils, she again let her eyes roam the crowd before continuing, relishing the interest of the hungry eyes eating up her story.

"During her separation from the sea-god Njord, her path crossed with Ullr who better matched her passion for winter, skiing and hunting. And so, they formed a good union."

The woman raised her chin and then sighed, a smile playing at the corner of her lips before leveling her gaze, sweeping the crowd of eager onlookers.

"If you see Skadi skiing with her bow across her back and her loyal dogs, make you an offering to receive her blessing that winter may not savage you and your blood. Beware the harshness and beauty of the winter wilderness."

Finishing the last of her mead in one swallow, the woman fortified herself and used her stick to push up off the wood of the chair. With a nod of gratitude to the Jarl and a soft look to the gathered folk who now celebrated the value of her story and thanked her as she wove her way out, she threw up the hood of the icy blue cloak and exited the hall though the door she had entered.

Outside, with a smirk that did not quite reach her cold arctic eyes, she leaned the stick against the outside wall and grabbed a bow and quiver which she slung across her back. She made quick work with agile hands of the skis that leaned there before grabbing the poles. Two fierce wolves came out of the shadows.

"Come, dogs," she said as she propelled herself forward, knowing her story was not yet forgotten as she made her way to the next mountain settlement.

In any case her story, like so many other female deities of her ilk would not fade when set against mighty Thor or the clever Alfather. She would see to it.